


typhoon

by wordlocker



Series: beautiful disaster [2]
Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5073034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordlocker/pseuds/wordlocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>getting to know wonshik feels like getting caught in a hurricane; and before long hongbin finds himself toppling head over heels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	typhoon

**Author's Note:**

> a prequel to [[skyfall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4977565)]

Hongbin only remembers crying twice in his whole life: once when he lost his parents at the supermarket after wandering off at the age of three, another when he was six and an older boy pushed him off a jungle gym and made him lose a front tooth. Neither of those times felt like this. 

Hongbin’s angry and disappointed above all, sad underneath, and scared dead last. The tears keep coming, though, wetting his face in hot streams as he works on wiping them away, curled up in the bathroom where he’s stormed in an hour ago. His mother stops knocking on the door twenty minutes ago, and Hongbin doesn’t know whether to be relieved or upset. His father’s last words echo in his head, like a broken record, and he has to grit his teeth as his brain continues replaying it.

_You’re our only boy. Grow up._

To be reduced to just that – an heir, to an empire he doesn’t even want a part of – made every fiber of his being revolt. But Hongbin’s always been cerebral, something his father has always taken pride of even if he doesn’t realize it, and an hour and some fifteen minutes in solitude has given him a clear headspace. 

He sits at the dining table during dinner, silent despite his sisters and mother’s attempts to engage him in idle conversations. He waits patiently for it to be over, then he lays out the plan he’s carefully thought out.

“What do you mean you’re not coming with us?” his mother gasps, reaching across the table to grasp his hand.

Hongbin keeps a schooled expression, carefully keeping eye contact with his father. “I want to stay with grandma. And finish high school. Then I’m going into medicine, or veterinary, but not business.”

To his credit, his father doesn’t seem amused or mocking, only detached. “Is that what you’ve decided?”

“Yes,” Hongbin replies sternly, chin held high.

His father nods, finally showing a hint of emotion: resignation. “You’ll finish high school, and then we’ll talk some more.”

It’s a small victory, but Hongbin will take it. Moving a couple of cities over is a much more bearable thought than moving across the country, and having the family business dangled over his head for the rest of his teenage years. His mother is starting to cry, dabbing at her cheeks genteelly, and instead of taking her hand Hongbin excuses himself from the table, leaving his family to talk about how stubborn he’s being.

 

*

 

He moves into his grandma’s place over a weekend. He packs his lifetime belongings in a matter of days, and doesn’t even talk about it with the very few friends he has at school. People seem to think he’s popular, even though he barely speaks to anyone, but Hongbin knows not one of his schoolmates will remember him once he’s gone. He tries not being so aloof, smiling at girls who giggle and whisper his way, trying not to be a complete asshole. He sees them watching him everywhere he goes, but he doesn’t want to encourage them. He sees a handful of boys watching him, too, mostly older kids, but he doesn’t smile at them because they make him nervous.

Practically the only kid in school he wishes would look at him, doesn’t. Hongbin knows this because he watches the boy all the time. He would feel pathetic if he isn’t so infatuated, making sure to go to every performance and sneaking peeks as the boy and his lanky best friend joke around at lunch. In the end, he knows that the biggest part of the hurt he felt when his father announced to the family about moving can be traced back to the boy with the sweet voice.

Hongbin doesn’t even get a chance to tell him how he loves hearing him sing.

 

*

 

His grandmother greets him with a warm hug from the moment he sets his suitcase down and doesn’t let go until he has to wave goodbye to his tearful mother and harried father. Hongbin’s always been the closest grandchild to her, and it’s refreshing to know that it’s not because he’s the only boy for once, only because he genuinely enjoys spending time with her.

“You must be hungry,” she says, steering him into the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you some snack.”

Hongbin doesn’t argue, and sits and watches as she putters around, talking about the classes she’s taking to fill her time, asking him about school and basketball and music. He responds to every one of her questions, adds comments to what she says, but there must be something in his voice, or his eyes that clues her in.

“Thank you,” Hongbin mumbles, accepting the platter of snacks she hands him.

“I’m proud of you, Hongbinnie-ah,” she smiles, kind and sincere, her fingers carding through his hair. “You’re brave and kind and smart. Everything will be okay from now on.”

Hongbin’s throat closes up and his eyes sting, but keeping it all in, he burrows into her arms and lets himself be loved for a while.

 

*

 

True to his expectation, Hongbin’s new school is just as dreary as his old one – the same rectangular brick building that tries (and fails spectacularly) at looking majestic, the same dusty yard, the same line of generic trees, even the same block of boulder boasting its name in block letters. Only, there’s a boy lying on the flat top of the rock, sneakered feet in the air as he scribbles furiously in the notebook in front of him. Hongbin spares him a glance, but walks past when he sees that the boy has earbuds in, music bleeding out of them.

Several girls openly stare and titter at each other as he passes by them, and for several seconds he’s confused by the unfamiliar uniforms they have on until he realizes that he’s wearing the same colors. Different school, same unwanted attention. Hongbin’s uniform finally fits him right for a change, at least, pants that actually cover his ankles and a shirt that isn’t threatening to burst around his shoulders. He’s aware of growing taller and broader in certain places the last few months, but hasn’t been bothered doing anything about it.

The faculty’s office is easy enough to find, and after going through with all the necessary formalities and having the clerk in charge inappropriately cooing at how handsome he is, he heads right back out in search of homeroom. Hongbin does everything after that on autopilot, politely introducing himself to the teacher, and silently thanking him for not doing the whole _please introduce yourself to the whole class_ routine. He grabs a seat close to the back of the class and floats through the motions, his trusty blue ballpoint pen twirling between his fingers.

 

*

 

“You’re new.”

Hongbin usually can’t stand people stating the obvious, but considering the guy says it while offering him a can of soda, he chooses to look past it. “Yeah. You’re the class president.”

“That’s right,” the guy beams, round cheeks balling up adorably. “The name’s Cha Hakyeon, but you can call me Mr. President if you wish to.”

“Hongbin,” he smiles in return. “And I don’t think I want to.”

Hakyeon laughs, a clear, refreshing sound like wind chimes. “I like you, Hongbin.”

It’s spoken with such ease and sincerity that Hongbin’s stunned for a while. Hakyeon gets up to leave with an easy _I’ll see you around!_ and he’s still staring at the vacated space when another person fills the spot.

“You’ll get used to him,” the new person says, voice a quiet rumble that does something to Hongbin’s insides. “Don’t worry.”

It’s the boy on the boulder. He looks bigger up close, broad shoulders and legs that go on for days, and Hongbin has to grudgingly admit, strikingly attractive. For a few seconds Hongbin just stares at the way he digs into his food, unabashed and charmingly childish. When it seems like he’s just there to have his lunch, Hongbin goes back to his egg salad sandwich, pursing his lips at the wilted lettuce in the middle of it.

“Are you going to drink that?” 

Hongbin looks up to see boulder boy eyeing the chocolate milk next to his hand. Considering the soda Hakyeon left for him, Hongbin shakes his head no, and the other boy grabs the milk without much preamble. 

“I’m Wonshik, by the way,” he manages after taking a short sip, mouth tilted in a smirk. “Figured you might want to know who’s robbing you of your first dairy product at this school.”

“Hongbin,” Hongbin grins, tipping his head to the side in mock consideration. “Were you not going to introduce yourself if I refuse to give you my chocolate milk just now?”

“You wouldn’t. I’m _very_ persuasive.”

It’s the way he’s staring straight at Hongbin, and the delicious low tone of his voice, that renders Hongbin speechless, face promptly growing hot. He finds himself watching as Wonshik takes a long drink, the elegant column of his neck rippling, pink tongue darting out to lick the residue on his bottom lip. If Wonshik’s aware that he’s gaping like a besotted moron, he doesn’t mention it.

 

*

 

It’s nearly impossible not to gravitate towards Wonshik after that. Hongbin learns that he’s some sort of a tech genius, scarily smart and equally talented. The first time he lets Hongbin listen to one of his compositions, Hongbin’s so blown away they end up sitting wordlessly together, just letting the track go on loop over and over. Sometimes they do that, doing homework assignments side by side, without even talking, for hours. It’s so comfortable that it scares Hongbin a little.

It’s so comfortable that when Wonshik kisses him five weeks after Hongbin first saw him in the schoolyard, he isn’t even surprised. Granted, Wonshik doesn’t exactly yank him close and plant one on him out of the blue, but it feels _natural_ to Hongbin, like they’re doing something right. It’s been raining and they’ve had to dash home from the basketball court – where Hongbin was totally kicking Wonshik’s ass – and they’re sitting on the couch in Wonshik’s room when it happens. Hongbin is just about to thank Wonshik for the towel, hand poised to reach up and dry his hair, when Wonshik’s thigh brushes against his own. It’s a simple touch, but neither one of them moves away, then Hongbin lowers his towel and sees Wonshik watching him.

There’s admiration in Wonshik’s gaze, laced with heat, and though he isn’t shocked by it, it still makes Hongbin blush, unraveling something in his chest. Wonshik’s hand tentatively lands on Hongbin’s knee as he leans in, eyes never leaving Hongbin’s, and when he pauses Hongbin’s breathing pauses with him. Wonshik’s mouth is right there – slick with spit and softly pink, and giving in to the fluttering in his belly, Hongbin closes the distance. It’s chaste and dry at first, just lips pressing against each other, then Hongbin makes a noise and Wonshik surges forward. Large hands cupping Hongbin’s face, Wonshik’s mouth moves on top of Hongbin’s, and he opens up for it – for Wonshik’s tongue to lick inside and curl into his. Hongbin doesn’t have any reference to compare, but he thinks Wonshik kisses like a sex god, taking and giving in equal parts and with so much intensity it’s making Hongbin’s head spin after mere seconds. 

Wonshik pulls back just enough to tug on Hongbin’s swollen bottom lip, laughing delightedly, the vibration of it causing Hongbin to shiver. “ _God_ ,” Wonshik exhales shakily, keeping their foreheads pressed together. He’s still holding Hongbin’s face in his hands, like he’s loathe to let him go, and Hongbin grins into the tiny space between them.

“Yeah,” Hongbin agrees, before they’re doing it again, leaving only hard breathing and wet noises filling the room.

He’s not sure if this is love, or anything resembling that, but he knows the fact: Wonshik makes his heart dip and soar in the split second that he smiles at him, throbbing in his ribcage as Wonshik directs those lovely eyes his way. He might still think about soft curly waves, full pink lips and clear honey voice once in a while, but he thinks this is a start of something good, too.

And who knows what’s in store for tomorrow.


End file.
